Free Web NovelNatasha opened her mouth.
"I..."
Her voice caught in her throat.
"I've heard some things."
She finally managed to force out a few words.
But even those were spoken haltingly, as if every word had to be squeezed out of her mouth.
"But I'm not sure... if it's true."
She lowered her head, staring at her meal tray.
"Some say... it might have been an informant for the Imperial Security Bureau."
"Others say it was an information broker from the black market."
"But it's all speculation."
Her fingers rubbed against the tabletop unconsciously, making a faint rustling sound.
"The Gendarmerie cordoned off the scene and didn't reveal anything."
Irene nodded.
"True, the authorities definitely wouldn't say much about something like this."
Her tone was natural, even carrying a hint of understanding.
"Sorry for asking you so suddenly, you look a bit nervous?"
She tilted her head, her golden-brown eyes filled with sincere concern.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just asking—after all, you're a Commoner Scholarship Students, so I thought news might travel faster on your side than ours."
"I-it's fine."
Natasha forced a smile.
"It's just... I'm not used to talking with so many people watching."
The reason sounded plausible.
Irene immediately showed an expression of sudden realization.
"Sorry, sorry! I forgot you might not be used to it—sometimes I speak without thinking, my sister always scolds me for that—"
She reached out and patted Natasha's shoulder.
"Relax, we're not scary people or anything, we're just having a meal together."
Natasha nodded.
But she could feel Pavela's gaze.
Those gray-blue eyes were resting quietly on her face.
She was observing something, confirming something.
Natasha's back began to tense up again.
"Right."
Irene clearly noticed the subtle shift in atmosphere and tried to change the subject. "Natasha, where are you from? Your accent sounds like you're from the north?"
Natasha's fingers froze completely on the table.
"...Yes."
"Where in the north? I've been there a few times; the scenery is beautiful, especially in winter—"
"A place far away."
Natasha interrupted her.
Her voice was even tighter than before.
"A... very small town."
"What's it called?"
"You wouldn't have heard of it."
"Maybe I have? I—"
"Irene."
Pavela spoke up.
Irene turned her head to look at Pavela.
Pavela set down her cutlery and wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if she were buying herself time to think.
Then she looked up.
"Natasha's hometown is Lyubertsy Town," she said. "A few years ago, a 'bandit suppression operation' took place there, and the entire town was razed to the ground."
"According to official records, there were no civilian casualties in that operation."
"But in reality, almost everyone in the town died."
"So, she doesn't like talking about her hometown."
Irene's expression froze.
Her golden-brown eyes widened, and her mouth hung slightly open as if she wanted to say something, but she couldn't utter a single word.
Alicia's spoon stopped mid-air.
Her purple eyes moved away from the pudding, looking first at Natasha and then at Pavela.
The noise of the cafeteria became exceptionally clear at that moment.
Laughter from the next table.
The sound of hammering outside the window.
The hum of steam pipes.
It all flooded into the small, previously warm space around the table.
"I'm sorry."
Irene finally found her voice.
"I didn't know... I really didn't know..."
Her voice was low, carrying a sincere apology that sounded almost like she was on the verge of tears.
"I shouldn't have asked."
Natasha shook her head.
"It's okay."
She said.
"You didn't know."
She looked up and forced a faint smile.
"And... it was a long time ago."
But that smile lasted less than a second on her face before it crumbled.
Irene opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She looked like she desperately wanted to say something but didn't know what.
Finally, she just reached out and gently held Natasha's hand.
"I'm sorry."
She said it again.
Her voice was even softer this time.
Pavela stood up.
She pushed her meal tray aside and rose from the bench.
"I'm finished," she said. "Natasha doesn't seem to be doing well, I'll take her back first."
She looked at Irene.
"I'll come find you tomorrow."
Irene nodded.
Her golden-brown eyes were still filled with worry, her gaze darting back and forth between Pavela and Natasha.
"Okay... yourselves careful on your way."
Pavela looked at Alicia again.
Alicia was poking the caramel layer of her third pudding with a spoon; her purple eyes looked up, meeting Pavela's gaze for a second.
Then she gave a small nod.
As if to say, "I understand."
Natasha stood up as well.
She picked up her tray and followed Pavela toward the tray return area.
The two of them placed their trays in the return area and walked out of the cafeteria.
Night had fully fallen.
The gas lamps in the hallway lit up one by one, their cast-iron brackets throwing long shadows against the walls.
Pavela walked in front.
Her steps weren't fast, but her rhythm was steady, the pleated skirt of her school uniform swaying gently with her pace.
The dark red cloth band on her wrist glinted in the light.
Natasha followed behind with her head down.
She stared at Pavela's back.
Narrow shoulders, a slender waistline.
This silhouette looked so small.
Too small to look like someone who could subdue two geniuses within twenty seconds.
Too small to look like someone who could dislocate both of her brother's arms in an alleyway.
Too small to look like someone who could fall from the sky and remain unscathed.
Natasha's mind was in a whirl.
It had been a mess ever since they left the cafeteria.
Pavela knew.
Pavela clearly knew everything.
She was in that alleyway.
She had seen Igor.
She had seen Karl Winter's body.
She had seen her.
She knew Natasha was with the Fire of Freedom.
She knew who had killed that "unidentifiable corpse."
She knew everything, yet she hadn't said a word.
For over a week, since that night, she hadn't said anything.
She had simply returned.
Sitting on her bed.
Reading books.
Learning words.
Eating pudding.
Saying "long time no see."
This wasn't right.
This didn't make sense.
A normal person wouldn't act like this.
Someone from the Schwartz Family even less so.
Unless—
Unless she wanted something.
But what did she want?
"Natasha."
She jerked her head up.
They had already reached the entrance of the Silver Moon Pavilion.
The dormitory's main door was right before them—dark oak panels, brass handles, with a gas lamp hanging above the frame, illuminating the porch brightly.
She had no memory of how she had walked here.
"You—"
She had just started to speak when her voice caught.
Because Pavela had turned around.
Having turned, Pavela was very close to her.
Extremely close.
Close enough that she could see the roots of Pavela's eyelashes, the reflection of the wall lamp's flame in those gray-blue eyes, and smell a faint, indescribable scent—like metal and disinfectant mixed together and then covered by something soft.
Natasha instinctively took a half-step back.
Her back hit the wall of the porch.
The pale beige wall pressed against her shoulder blades.
Pavela didn't follow.
She just stood there, looking up at Natasha. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
She was shorter than Natasha.
Quite a bit shorter.
But those eyes looking up from below seemed exceptionally clear in the dim, yellowish light.
"You haven't been in a good state this week."
Pavela said.
"It's not just today. Since last week, your mind has wandered in class, you've been eating less, and your sleep quality has dropped—you're tossing and turning three times more than you did on the first day of school, and you've started grinding your teeth."
Natasha's lips twitched.
"How did you—"
"I told you, it's a habit."
Pavela's tone was steady.
"You're thinking about many things."
"About what happened in that alley."
"About the things your brother told you to do."
"About whether this war can truly be stopped by your methods."
Every sentence was like a needle.
Pricking the place she had been avoiding, the place she didn't dare touch.
Natasha's fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt tightly.
Her knuckles turned white.
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Her voice was kept very low, almost squeezed out from between her teeth.
Filled with defensiveness.
Filled with vigilance.
With the final stubbornness of someone backed into a corner.
Pavela looked at her.
She watched her for a long time.
Long enough for the wall lamp at the end ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ of the hallway to flicker, the flame dancing within the glass shade and casting swaying shadows on the floor between them.
Then she sighed.
A very soft sigh.
As if to loosen some tight tension just a little.
"I'm not here to interrogate you,"
Pavela said.
Her voice was softer than before.
"Nor am I here to threaten you."
She took a half-step back, giving Natasha more space.
"I just..."
She paused, as if organizing her thoughts.
"I just think you look exhausted."
Natasha's fingers loosened their grip on her skirt slightly.
She stared at Pavela.
In those gray-blue eyes, there was only a calm frankness, as if she were merely stating facts.
"I don't know what your brother told you."
Pavela continued.
"I don't know what promises the Fire of Freedom made to you."
"But I know you're uncomfortable, and you're doubting."
"You're wondering if doing this can really stop the war."
"Or if it will only lead to more deaths."
Natasha's throat tightened.
She wanted to retort.
To say, "What do you know?"
To say, "What right do you, a noble, have to stand here and say these things to me?"
But she couldn't say it.
Because every word Pavela spoke had already crossed her own mind.
Pavela reached into her school jacket pocket and pulled out a card.
"This is for you."
It was dark red cardstock with fine gold edges that shimmered softly under the gaslight.
On the front was a line of text in the Imperial common script, the strokes fluid and elegant, as if handwritten with a fountain pen and then printed.
Natasha was taken aback.
She instinctively took the card.
The cardstock felt thick, the gold edges slightly scratching against her fingertips.
She looked down at the card.
Under the light, the words came clearly into view:
"You are cordially invited to a private gathering at 8:00 PM on the 23rd of the last month, in the East Reading Room on the third floor of the Old Library."
—P.V."
Below that was an even smaller line of text:
"If you also wish to truly end this war for the people of this land."
Natasha's fingers trembled slightly.
She looked up at the silver-haired girl who was more than half a head shorter than her.
"This is...?"
"An invitation."
Pavela said.
"If you want, you can come."
"If not, just act as if I never gave it to you."
